


Tired

by Yeenteen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Happy Ending, Multi, OOC, Past Relationship(s), Romance, angst with happy ending, break ups, idk what to tag, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8459902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeenteen/pseuds/Yeenteen
Summary: The clock struck 11:51 on a Wednesday night. A window sill made shadows into the neighbourhood street as a lamp light lit up the only room with light in the house. Random piles of files containing a due date death can't compare to, a mind and heart of a Frenchman was booming. For the first time in 18 years, Francis Bonnefoy wasn't tired.





	

the clock struck 11:51 on a Wednesday night. A window sill made shadows into the neighbourhood street as a lamp light lit up the only room with light in the house. Random piles of files containing a due date death can't compare to, a mind and heart of a Frenchman was booming. For the first time in 18 years, Francis Bonnefoy wasn't tired.

Francis remembers when he was just a young boy, running around the cobblestone streets of Paris, waiting for his parents to catch up to his running speed, zooming past multiple shops, just to get back to the hotel. He remembers it was Christmas and he was vacationing at the Paris for 6 days.

_Gosh, he wished he could have stayed longer._

Being a naive little boy, he thought life couldn't be any better, funnier, more of a utopia for his childhood self. Laughing loudly as strangers acknowledge his foreign actions of his Mon-Parisian existence, Francis wasn't tired. Not one second in those 6 days was he tired. He probably forgot "tired" was a word in his dictionary. He remembered his lack of tiredness, he sometimes wished his older self remembered it. But now he did.

It wasn't until he was 21, he met his source of motivation. " _Mon Cher_ ," he whispered at every glance he took at the English man. In Francis' eyes, he was a gemstone in a pile of dirt, stood out from everyone, he could have him in his arms forever if he had the option to. Fuck, he was never upset around him.

The Englishman came out of the blue. Francis' life was depended on a job and study's before his lover. But the thing about him was he didn't make Francis not tired, he never made him upset. Francis scattered around France to get his gemstone a gift and Francis was happy to do so. He was polishing and spoiling his gem, encouraging the Englishman to grow ignorant and isolated and, I don't know, Francis was all over him but the gem, the gem was loosing its shine.

You don't understand how important something is before you loose them. Every " _Mon Cher..._ " the Englishman heard was a wake up call for more bullshit to come. The gem couldn't care less about Francis. Francis was a vending machine you trick buy taping a string to a dollar bill and inserting into the slot, receiving your item but also pulling out your bill. That's how the Englishman saw Francis.

_Money. Gifts. Diamond rings. Letters. Literature. Name an expensive gift and Francis gave it to the Gem._

The gem didn't understand "you don't realize how important something is before you loose it". If anything, he abused it. The gem made Francis tired.

**So. Tired.**

And so was Francis's wallet and time. Francis could have just gone to sleep after shifts at the photographer's studio but Francis wanted his gem to have more. So much more. Francis could have slept at 11:51 on work days but he can't. He worked over time to the point where he would pass out due to exhaustion.

The gem, from a distance, couldn't care less. He cared so little that the gem found a new owner.

" _Mon Cher?_ " Francis whispered as he caught his gem shoving his tongue into the American man he said not to worry about. Of course Francis worried. And now his worrying stopped. Francis took all of his gem's belongings and tossed them out into the streets, along with his desire of his presents.

If his gem is mad, well then. The American can pick his stuff up and spoil him somewhere else.

Francis' 21 year old heart was still pending if it was relieved or broken. It was a little bit of both. But Francis felt lonely. And if your lonely,

**You're.  
Tired.**

Francis was tired. During work, his eye lids felt like it was being weighed down by pounds. Francis wanted to sleep. He never realized how much he wanted sleep. He desired sleep, he begged to God for sleep. He was too tired to sleep.

After falling asleep on a park bench in the big city of Paris, he woke up to rain drops plopping onto his face. That felt... oddly good. He was so confused about his surroundings, it was like someone turned the world upside down and made everything in another language. His head was swaying.

"Excuse me, sir. Can I take the seat beside you?" A voice sprung out of noise only to be heard by Francis. He swung around.

"Um... yes sure. No one is sitting here anyways." He cleared his voice before speaking. He took his luggage and plopped it on his lap, letting the lady sit beside him.

"Gosh, I love it when it rains in this temperature." She sighed.

"I'm quite fond of it too." Francis smiled as he replied. "It's the little things you appreciate the most when your tired."  
  
The woman was surprised with Francis' words of wisdom. It was a bit reviving.

"Are you a poet sir?" She questioned, giving him a small grin.

"Oh no no. I'm a photographer on the brink of depression." He laughed.

The woman stitched her eyebrows. "Well then. Sorry I asked." She rubbed the back of her neck. She looked away from Francis's face.

"No no no, it's okay,"

She blinked, observing Francis' dazzling looks. Blinking and giggling out of amazement. "So sir, what's your name?"

Francis turned to the woman. One eyebrow cocked upwards. "My name is Francis."

The woman smiled. "I'm Lisa." She held out her hand for Francis to shake. Francis taking her hand with a firm grip and a soft shake, indicating that he enjoys her presents.

The clock struck 11:51 on a Wednesday night, 6 years later. Lisa was working over time to surprise Francis to pay for a date. Francis was the only one in the house at the moment, going over some notes for customers who booked appointments for visits to his studio. Most of them were wedding photos. Francis smiled. He smiled at the thought of someone else doing his wedding photos with Lisa. He opened his desk, sliding the drawer and taking out the red velvety box, containing a diamond ring. Oh did Francis smile. He placed the opened box beside his work note book. He carelessly flipped pages and checking off lists only to run into a piece of paper stuck onto a page in his note book.

_Don't work too late.  
I love you._

_\- Lisa_

Francis blushed at the note. He closed his book in promise to sleep earlier than usual. He wasn't tired, he slept because of his soon to be wife said so. He gave her gifts and she accepted them, giving him gifts too. But Francis' next gift was special. Very special

The clock struck 11:51 on a Wednesday night. A window sill made shadows into the neighbourhood street as a lamp light lit up the only room with light in the house. Random piles of files containing a due date death can't compare to, a mind and heart of a Frenchman was booming. For the first time in 18 years, Francis Bonnefoy wasn't tired.

_For the rest of his life, Francis Bonnefoy will never be tired. And he knows he will never be._

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, don't go hard on me. This is my first fanfic. 
> 
> It's 1:00 and I have school tomorrow but you know. Priorities.
> 
> I actually do really like France/England but I wanted emotion into this bc the fandom is filled with sadness and I also love France and Lisa. I get good videos from them. 
> 
> Idk if I'll continue writing tf tho. I'll see what happens. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for checking this out! I appreciate it!


End file.
